


cornered

by vicen_non



Series: Extra Pages [7]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Crosstale Sans (Undertale), Crosstale Sans/Dreamtale Nightmare Sans (Undertale), Dreamtale Nightmare Sans (Undertale), Dreamtale Nightmare Sans/Killer Sans (Undertale), Drugs, Fae & Fairies, Fae Dreamtale Nightmare Sans, Fae Magic, Human Trafficking, Killer Sans (Undertale) - Freeform, Killer Sans/Crosstale Sans, M/M, Multi, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Possession, Underswap Sans (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29679957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vicen_non/pseuds/vicen_non
Summary: Killer is hopelessly intrigued by a white-haired man who is unconscious in an alleyway.
Relationships: Nightmare/Cross, Nightmare/Killer, Sans/Sans (Undertale), killer/cross
Series: Extra Pages [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935679
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	cornered

**Author's Note:**

> ok this was written way early in the morning, so big heads up for the sheer stupidity that is cross's naiveite

Rhythmic, a cheerful and fast-paced beat bounced off the walls of the club. The soundwaves pounded against his ribcage and reverberated inside of his skull. Flashing, dancing, screams and laughter. A figurehead in headphones swayed to the beat upon an elevated stage, his tanned neck captured by an inky garland of thorns like stitches.

Killer watched the tattoos around the DJ's neck, leaned against the counter of the bar as green and pink left impressions on his pale face. They curved around his cheekbones and over his nose, cupping his face and running. Blue and purple replaced them quickly, kissing his eyelids and dying his eyelashes.

God, Killer thought. It fucking stinks in here.

It didn't really bother him. It was just a fact. The club smelled like sugar and sweat. No matter what bathroom he went into, it still smelled like shit. He nearly left the first time he came in, just out of precaution. Fortunately, Killer has been at the Prism for an hour and nothing has set in. Yet.

He almost didn't hear the bartender shuffle behind him, leaning onto their side of the counter. "They'll kick you out if they don't see you doing something, you know. This ain't a place to cherry-pick." 

Killer plastered a shit-eating smirk onto his chapped lips and let them split the skin. He's been chewing his lips a lot recently. With a semi-dramatic flourish, he twists around and meets the bartender's gaze, very unsubtly checking him out. "I'm not a serial killer. Relax." 

Blue raised a brow at him, narrowed gaze also skimming over his shoulders and the line of his chest. Killer winked at him, gaining a scoff. "You sound like a serial killer."

"I'm not. Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die." Killer pouted. His eyelashes fluttered. Blue scoffed again, this time in amusement, and Killer's smirk grew. "Oh, we're _friends_ now."

Blue dismissed him, turning his back to prepare a new cocktail for a partygoer advancing toward the bar. "We can be whatever you say we are, honey." Right. He found his new target for the night, then.

Several hours later, deep into the night, Killer nudged the limp form of a man with stupidly white hair in the alleyway of the club. Blue was limp against his hip, an arm slung around his shoulder to make it seem like they were walking together. His head lolled around, sometimes brushing against Killer's chest. 

On one hand, Killer had a delivery to make. On the other, who the fuck would be stupid enough to bleach their entire fucking head white?

Oh, he was so curious. Like, barely. Very barely. Which is enough for him to peel Blue off of himself and lean his ragdoll body against the dirty and sour-smelling wall, while he hoists this man's face off of the concrete by his shitty, over-grown buzzcut.

A hard fist whipped his head back, catching his jaw. Killer nearly fell onto his ass from the sheer fucking force put into it. Look, he may have had a few drinks with Blue, but he wasn't gonna let himself plop onto the concrete like a dumbass because he drank shots. "Shit!" 

"What the fuck- fuck- what the fuck are you - what do you want?" Buzzcut stumbled against the wall, slouching against it and using it to bear his weight. Killer absentmindedly noted that he was taller than him, with more muscle mass. Especially on his biceps. 

He swiped some of the blood off of his bottom lip, swallowing down the rest which pooled against his gums. "Nothin'. Just wanted to see what stupid hobo had bleached hair."

The hobo stared at him, clearly very stupid.

Exceptional. Maybe Nightmare wouldn't mind if he brung home a +1.

Blue stirred against the bricks, groaning quietly. His arms were twitching. Killer had to get him on the subway. Seeing Killer's head turn towards Blue, Buzzcut immediately went to try and wake Blue up. God, what a white knight. Killer loved it.

"He's not gonna get up." Buzzcut looked at him, concern sprawled all over his - was his skin paler than Killer's? Has he finally met someone whiter than him? As Killer marveled at the thought of someone whose skin was snowier than a fucking dove, Buzzcut examined Blue's reflexes and checked his eyes. "Don't bother him too much." Killer whined. "He's having a good dream." His ears rang a bit after that fucking punch, holy shit.

"Okay, I have no idea who you are, but you seem like a fucking serial killer." Buzzcut accused. 

With an exaggerated, soap-opera gasp, Killer protested. "He just passed out on me! I'm walking him home!" 

Half an hour later, Buzzcut is helping him walk Blue up the stairs to the back door of Nightmare's abode.

"You know, I thought you were going to run from me." Killer mused. "You had that wild look in your eyes. Like an animal. Cornered." 

Buzzcut, whose name will remain so, rolled his eyes. "I know I just woke up like an hour ago, but I'm going to get you a glass of water and some Advil." 

He almost felt bad for what was waiting for Buzzcut inside of the house. It would take a little bit of time to coax him into safety and capture him, but Nightmare would take care of it from there.

The backdoor quietly swung open as his new, temporary friend carried Blue into the house, laying him on the couch. The living room was dark, and the fan was left on, its blades creating a soothing white noise in the dead silence of the night. Across from the back door, Killer could see the dark staircase leading up to the second floor, where Nightmare's room was. Where Nightmare would come down, and see them.

Of course his boss knew they were there. The backdoor had a camera mounted above it. Error had no doubt informed him by now, with a short text message followed by several others probably complaining or something about food or groceries.

Killer was brought out of his thoughts by the gentle press of calloused hands on his shoulders. A knife was already at Cross's warm throat. He felt Cross's chest stutter, the way his Adam's apple bobbed and his heartbeat throbbed, caged in so pitifully by pale bars. Killer could feel the way that blood rushed to Cross's head at the pressure put against the thick cords of his neck, and he felt the heat that radiated off of their proximity.

Slowly, Cross made the universal sign of surrender.

Empathy was spelled across his rugged features.

"Don't stand behind me." Killer grinned. His jaw flexed.

"I'm not here to hurt you." Dear god, the irony. "I just wanted to help you out with your friend here. You should get some rest, I can smell the whiskey all over your chin."

"Do you think I am stupid enough to allow a stranger to put me to bed?" Killer whisper-laughed. Cross frowned. "I understand the sentiment, but-" Killer gestured for them both to go back out the back door, motioning at Blue's still form on the couch. Snores were beginning to come from him.

Slowly, Killer closed the door behind them both, glancing over the slightly tensed line of Cross's shoulders. He should be more wary. In fact, he should be making his excuse to leave, by now.

"You shouldn't be out here." Cross whispered. He could see the other's irises flicking about the dark woods and their secluded neighborhood. "You might get mugged or something. I don't know why the fuck I was in an alleyway, but I don't want that to happen to you."

Bewildered, Killer stared at him. God, he was so stupid.

"Do you think I'm some defenseless little twink?"

Sputtering, Cross immediately rose to counter. "No, no! I'm just trying to be a good stranger!" Killer clapped a hand on his cold shoulder, to which Cross jumped. "Just shut up and say friends, you helped me lug an adult man several miles." Killer muttered.

Ah... that puppydog grin would stay with him for a while.

Nightmare quietly shuffled through the bills in his hands and counted them in front of Killer, before sliding a fairly reasonable chunk across his mahogany desk.

Killer waited until Nightmare gave him the signal before reaching out and taking the money. Another pile of useless paper to find some usage out of. Maybe he'll try to save up for something obnoxious that'll annoy the hell out of his 'employer'. 

"I don't have to pay you." Nightmare lightly told him. "But here's a bonus, anyway. For the extra. He'll make a good bodyguard."

Killer felt the smirk curl in the corners of his lips and inwardly lamented. "He better. I had a little moment with him out back." He gestured over his shoulder with a thumb. Nightmare chuckled. "Yes, yes... you certainly did."

A bead of sweat gathers at his brow.

"Friends, is it?"

Nightmare rested his chin on the cushion of his palm, all propped up against the desk. "He's a funny, funny little man." Killer felt his muscles relax at the tap of a well-manicured nail on the wood, to which Nightmare's remaining eye would squint cruelly at.

"Just like me." Killer laughed.

"Just like you." Nightmare echoed. "Why don't you two reintroduce yourselves?"

From a door beside a bookshelf, Cross stepped out once again, this time all nice and cleaned up. Without the grease and dirt muddying up his hair, it was really very bright and white. Killer appreciated how he was, dressed sharply in a black suit, but thought distantly of Cross and his gross tank top and those fucked up skinny jeans, and he felt a tinge of guilt.

Cross smiled at him.

That same look danced in the candle light, curled in the reflection of his pupils. Oh, he knew what that look was. 

"It's nice to meet you." Killer mocked. "My name is Killer, and I'll be your partner in crime." He bowed, and Nightmare gestured for Cross to follow. 

...

Except he didn't.

 _Oh, you stupid little man._ Killer thought. _It's never good to show him you have free will._


End file.
